1 Sheep. . . 2 Sheep. . .

So, here's the thing: I've been debating about whether or not to post something about this on the blog for a while now, but I think I've finally figured out a way to do it that fits with the overall feel of what I want this blog to be about, so I've decided to go ahead with it.

Since September of last year, I've been having nightmares: violent, scary, ugly nightmares. Nightmares that you don't want to know what they're about. Nightmares that even I wish I didn't know what they were about. Nightmares that cause me to wake up in the night yelling. Nightmares that leave me in cold sweats. Nightmares that make me scared to go to sleep at night. Nightmares that make me wonder about lots of things.

Over the course of these past months, it's very common to be awake for large chunks of time so I've been able to think and process in between the tears and anger. See, there are many reasons to be scared right now, there are many things to be afraid of. But through it all, even when I'm lying there in the dark, terrified that my eyes may close and another horrible movie will start to play, and fighting so hard to keep that from happening, there is great peace that comes in knowing that my worst fear, the thing I'm most afraid of --losing my relationship with Christ -- can never happen.

It's not that it can never happen because my faith is strong, sometimes it's almost non-existent. And it's not that it can never happen because I'm the one clinging to God, sometimes I don't have the strength. It's because he's holding tight to me, through the sleeplesness, through the darkness, through the nightmares. It's because nothing on this earth, even my own mind, can ever seperate me from his love. It's because his holding on to me, ultimately has nothing to do with me; it's something he decided to do long ago, in the dark, before there was even light. That's enough to make me rest, whether I sleep or not.